


You May Call It Suicide (But I'm Being Born Again)

by Brenda



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck Lives, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Raleigh's hands are sliding over his stomach and hips, firm and warm and really fucking good, and they're both wearing way too much in the way of clothing, but it's alright, it's fine, they can work around it.  Right now, Chuck thinks he could do anything.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You May Call It Suicide (But I'm Being Born Again)

**Author's Note:**

> For Jo, who wanted a fic about Raleigh and Chuck having imperfect sex.

It doesn't actually hit Chuck until after his dad's been by with Max (who'd cheerfully slobbered all over him while Herc had confined himself to a single hard hug that Chuck had been happy to return) and the third – or is it fourth, he's sort of lost track – doctor has come by to check over his vitals and run another series of tests and blood work that, somehow, he's honest to fuck Not Dead. That, thanks to a stubborn bastard who'd sacrificed himself for the greater good and some epic, _ridiculous_ timing and a couple of unexpected heroes who'd saved the world and closed the Breach, Chuck is still here, still breathing, and he's been given another shot at this whole life thing. 

He's fucking _alive_ when, by all rights, he should be vaporized dust on the bottom of the ocean floor. He's going to have the opportunity to wake up tomorrow in a world without a kaiju threat coloring his and the world's every movement and thought, he's going to get to go to bed without worrying about being deployed in the middle of the night, he's going to maybe get the chance to see if he and his dad can function as a family and not simply co-pilots who share Drift space, and he never ever has to worry again if he's going to be good enough, fast enough, or strong enough to make the tough calls and split-second life or death decisions, because there's no need anymore.

Once it really, honestly hits him, he starts laughing and can't stop, because this is _truly_ absurd. They'd fucking _done_ it, hadn't they, they'd cancelled the fucking apocalypse just like Pentecost had said they would, and not even the deep, profound pang in Chuck's chest over losing him, one of the best men Chuck has ever known, is enough to dampen the magnitude of this moment. He's pretty sure the Marshall would want everyone celebrating instead of moping about grieving him, anyway. Pentecost had never exactly seemed the type for sentiment or mawkishness.

Chuck's still laughing over the insanity of it all (it's possibly hysterical, relieved laughter and he's alright with that) when Raleigh Becket finds him. He guesses the medical staff's already cleared Raleigh, because he's out of his conn suit and wearing casual clothes and looks like he's had the chance to maybe clean himself up. 

Raleigh steps into the room, clears his throat. His gaze touches everything in the room except Chuck himself. "Mako wanted me to see how you were doing."

Chuck wants to ask why Mako's not here herself, then, but he figures maybe Raleigh had needed to find an excuse to come check on him, and had landed on Mako, which, honestly, it's fine by Chuck. He'd probably have needed the same one if their situations had been reversed. It's not like the two of them are friends or even friendly, for all that they're not actively trying to punch each other into next week these days, but Chuck definitely understands the need to make sure a fellow Ranger's good with one's own eyes. 

He snaps a small, short salute. "Still present and accounted for."

Raleigh stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his ridiculously baggy jeans and rocks on his heels. "Yeah, I guess we all are." 

And maybe it's the way Raleigh's looking at him, like he knows exactly how Chuck feels and what this moment, this chance, _means_ , or maybe it's the adrenaline comedown or maybe Chuck's finally lost his freakin' marbles, or possibly a combination of all of the above, but Raleigh is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Chuck has ever seen in his life. Chuck's never really gone for pretty, blue-eyed blonds, but there's no denying Raleigh Becket is one well put together specimen, and the lust spiking through him, although unexpected, considering the source, is another sharp reminder that he's still very much alive and kicking. 

"How long they keeping you?" Raleigh asks, looking around again. Chuck's not sure why he's bothering. There's not much to see, really. Just a bed and an empty IV hookup. 

"They cleared me a bit ago, but I think there's some paperwork I'm supposed to sign or something," Chuck says, and then, before he can talk himself out of it, "you wanna maybe go somewhere and celebrate saving the world?"

Those blue eyes finally laser in on him, and Raleigh's feet fall flat to the floor as he goes completely still. Chuck can almost hear the thoughts competing for attention in Raleigh's head – _you don't much like me, I don't much like you, don't you want to be with your dad or Max, shouldn't I be with Mako, this is probably a stupid idea_ – but the only word that comes out of his mouth is: 

"Yes."

Which is how, not even five minutes later, they've stumbled into an empty room on the other side of the infirmary, maybe an unused supply closet or janitorial closet, Chuck's not sure, but it's got a door and, more importantly, a lock, and that's all that matters. Raleigh shoves him inside and follows, and they bump noses on their first attempt at a kiss, and Chuck can't quite angle his head on the second. By the third try, they're both chuckling at each other and themselves and trying to tug on each other's shirts at the same time, and then _finally_ , Raleigh's lips are on his, and it's not even that great of a kiss, but it might just be the best one Chuck's ever had in his life.

"This is fucking insane," Raleigh mutters, his hands mapping a heated line down Chuck's back. His lips burn a path along Chuck's neck. Chuck's not sure if Raleigh's talking about the two of them hooking up or the timing or the place or all three.

"Yeah," Chuck agrees, because there's no use arguing with it, no matter what Raleigh means. "You wanna stop?"

"Fuck no."

Which are the best words Chuck's ever heard come out of Raleigh's mouth. He reverses their positions and shoves Raleigh against the wall, then dives in, the next kiss hot and hungry, so much better than the last one, and maybe they're starting to get the hang of this thing. Raleigh's hands are sliding over his stomach and hips, firm and warm and really fucking good, and they're both wearing way too much in the way of clothing, but it's alright, it's fine, they can work around it. Right now, Chuck thinks he could do anything.

And, right now, what Chuck wants to do is make Raleigh incoherent and mindless, so he goes right to his knees and fumbles for Raleigh's zipper, because he's too impatient and too dizzy with need to attempt to work Raleigh's belt and top button free to get his pants off of him. They can do the whole naked thing later, if there even is a later. But it only takes a second to free Raleigh's cock and Chuck wastes no time taking him deep, stretching his lips until he can feel them start to crack, and pushing forward until he starts to choke. Raleigh's hands drop to his shoulders and clench, and the way he moans Chuck's name is gratifying as fuck and worth the ache in back of his throat.

It's far from the best hummer Chuck's ever given, but technique isn't everything, and Raleigh doesn't seem to mind that Chuck's not as his best. In fact, Raleigh's acting like it's been years since anyone's had their mouth on his dick, which is just criminal. Anyone with Raleigh's looks and build should be out and about on the prowl, getting some as much as possible.

Although, it's not like Chuck's got too much room to talk as far as being out of practice goes, because after a few minutes, his knees start barking at him and his jaw is getting sore from the way he's moving. He brings his hand more into the action, buying himself and his sore throat some respite, and it becomes more of a sloppy handjob for a little while before Chuck opts to simply concentrate on the head of Raleigh's cock with his mouth and hope that's enough.

"Here, just –" Raleigh pushes at his shoulders to get him to shift or change angles or something, Chuck's not entirely sure, and Chuck gets tangled in Raleigh's feet before he rights himself. But he gets back in position soon enough and finds his rhythm again, using Raleigh's moans and the way he's clutching at Chuck's hair and the back of his neck as a guide on what he's doing right.

Chuck only has about a second or two of warning before Raleigh comes. And he wants it noted for the record, just in case anyone's keeping score, that he tries his best, but there's way too much to swallow, so he winds up spitting up some of it, gagging as the bitter aftertaste hits his tongue. He doesn't exactly _hate_ the taste of spunk as a general rule, but it's far from the best thing ever, and anyone that tries to say differently is just looking to score points or just plain lying.

"You okay?" Raleigh asks, helping him to his feet. His eyes are dancing with laughter, warm and amused and satiated, which should be annoying, considering it's at Chuck's expense, but the entire situation _is_ rather comical, so Chuck lets it slide.

Instead, he just nods and swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "I could fucking use some soda water."

"Hey, man, I tried warning you –"

"Whatever, you gave me, like, a _second_ ," and screw it, if he's got to live with the taste on his tongue, he's sharing the damn wealth. He fists Raleigh's shirt, brings their mouths together for a hot, heavy kiss, and curls his tongue around Raleigh's, giving as good as he'd gotten.

Raleigh, of course, damn him, just rolls with it, and every kiss honestly _has_ gotten better, so practice is definitely making perfect on at least one front. Chuck has high hopes they'll get the rest sorted eventually, too. But first things first before there's any talk of a rematch.

"I sure as fuck hope you're not planning on leaving me hanging here," he says, rubbing against Raleigh in a way that should get his point across, just in case the words aren't clear enough to sink into Raleigh's post-orgasmic brain.

"Give me a second, alright, I'm trying to regain motor control," Raleigh says, but it only takes him another minute or two before he's unzipping Chuck's jeans and pulling out his cock. 

Raleigh's got nice hands, long-tapered fingers, very deft stroke on the wrist movement, and Chuck rocks into the way Raleigh's jerking him off, hyper-aware of his body in a way he's never been before. But then, he's never been this close to certain death before either, so it's probably normal, and he's probably reading too much into it. Which would be a first.

"Need more...can you just..." Chuck tugs at Raleigh's hand, brings it up to his mouth. Normally, he hates using saliva to help make his hand (or anyone else's hand) slick, but he's making an exception in this case, because there's no way he's waiting until they get somewhere where there's proper lube or lotion.

"Better?" Raleigh asks, when he closes his fingers back over Chuck and starts moving.

"Yeah," Chuck gasps, and it is better – still a little dry and maybe not _pleasant_ exactly, but the friction is dead on, and it's not like Chuck's going to last all that long. They can worry about technique and making it last and everything else in the next round.

When Chuck spills over Raleigh's fist, Raleigh kisses him through the aftershocks and he relaxes into it, grateful to Raleigh for taking the lead. He's sticky and he's still got a nagging soreness in his jaw and he's got the worst case of dry mouth ever, but he's good. He's truly, really good right now, even though he still knows he hasn't dealt with the Marshall's death and he's certain Raleigh hasn't dealt with the fact that he'd come thisfuckingclose to dying himself. But all of that introspection can wait for another day or another week or maybe forever, as far as Chuck's concerned. All he knows right now is he's damn happy to be alive and he's really fucking glad Raleigh had come looking for him, and what he wants most out of life at this moment is to recover enough to move so he can do this all over again, hopefully with less clothing next time. And maybe an actual flat surface where there's room to move, although he's not too picky on that front.

Chuck sags against Raleigh's chest, boneless and somehow still so full of energy he thinks he could run laps around the Shatterdome. "Not bad," he declares, well pleased with both of them. "Imagine if we got in some actual practice."

"We're gonna need a bed," Raleigh mumbles against the juncture of Chuck's neck and shoulder, his breath hot and sort of nice against his skin. "'M'not staying here all fucking night."

"I think mine's closer."

"Awesome, sold, just...lemme pull up my pants," and Chuck has to laugh again, because what the hell are they thinking, really. They're _still_ not friends or even friendly (although they might be something a little better at the end of the day), but all Chuck wants is to drag Raleigh back to his room and strip him down for real before they both change their minds and come to their senses.

Raleigh pauses in the act of zipping his jeans, like maybe he's read Chuck's mind. "Unless you don't want to..."

"Except I really, _really_ do want to. Like, I'm giving serious thought to tying you to my bed for a few days."

"Oh. Okay, good." Raleigh tries and fails to suppress that smiling little smirk he gets when he's completely chuffed about something, but Chuck lets it slide. God knows Raleigh's entitled to it. "You, uh, might wanna pull up your own pants, then, unless you want your junk flapping in the breeze while we're walking. Not that _I_ mind, exactly, but your dad might kill us both before we get to your room, and that would be sort of tragic. Y'know, considering we have plans an all."

Yeah, definitely not friends. But definitely something more interesting. "Y'now, you're still an asshole, but I kinda think you're growing on me," Chuck says on a laugh, and pulls Raleigh to him for a very thorough, mind-erasing sort of kiss before Raleigh can make one of his smartass replies. 

They have all night to argue. Chuck's looking forward to it.

***


End file.
